


Heaven is Hotter Than Hell

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9676364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Jealous!Cas with a hint of Dom!Cas for extra spice. Public sex. A little fluffy, because I don’t know how to write Castiel without the fluff. I am not ashamed of this.





	

Effervescent laughter rose above all else – the din of bar conversation, the clinking of glass, the sloshing of alcohol, and the classic rock humming on repeat from the jukebox. It needled at the patient reserve of the angel isolated in a dimly lit corner. Castiel’s steel-blue eyes smoldered – fixed on the raven-haired man in a well-fitted suit situated at the bar – lids burdened with disdain.

Bouncing hair flirtatiously tossed, teasingly dragging your lower lip through biting teeth, fingers playing with the lapel of the man’s coat, you exuded virility.

The delighted pitch of your giggle pierced the seraph more painfully than any angel blade could – fuel to the flame, his fiery gaze flared, the wrath directed towards this stranger barely contained in tightly wound muscles primed to snap. Cas observed you dance this dance before – the choreography a festering lesion seared into his memory. Next, you would excuse yourself on some pretext to reapply needless makeup and straighten already perfectly mussed hair. Upon returning, you would whisper an offer meant only for the stranger’s ears, yet also perceived by angelic ones – an invitation to call it a night and join you in your motel room. The rare evening such as this one, witnessing you escape the rigors of the hunter life into a stranger’s arms, was nearly overwhelming. The angel seethed with envy, longing for those words to be uttered from your honeyed lips – spoken only for him. But you didn’t look at him that way, and never laughed so freely when he spoke.

Fingers skimming down the man’s chest, not missing a step in the carefully orchestrated number, you sauntered off to the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to ensure the man had a pleasing view of the assets neatly outlined in your dress, not noticing the angel seated beyond appreciating the same view.

The man fixated on you, tongue sliding out to wet his lips, until you vanished. Hailing the bartender, a smug grin over his aspect, he held up two fingers and threw a bill on the counter. The thoughts of meaningless sex – fucking you from behind like an animal, marking your neck with coiled hands, spilling his seed on you – flew unbidden from his mind to the angel’s. The man couldn’t even correctly picture the color of your expressive eyes when he envisioned himself gagging you with his cock. You deserved better.

Castiel’s nostrils flared, a sharp sigh blistering from his vessel’s lungs into the smoke laden air. “No more!” he hissed, fists clenching. Rising, striding across the floor, palms bleeding from the pressure of digging nails, he found himself beside the man.

The bartender placed two glasses on the counter.

Cas snatched at one, fingertips simultaneously pressing to the man’s temple, eyes glinting in the low light. “You will forget you ever laid eyes on her.”

All memory of you wiped from his mind, the man muttered, “Who?”

“Drink your beer and go home.” The angel’s fingers slipped as he shoved the glass into the man’s waiting hand. “Here, this one’s on me.”

“Hey, thanks bro!” The man clapped Cas on the shoulder, bringing the beverage to his lips with a gracious smile.

Focus wholly directed on routing the object of your desire, the angel missed your approaching footsteps. “Hey Cas. What’s going on?”

He faced you, gentling his agitation but not his resolve when he noted the flash of concern lighting your flushed countenance. “We’re leaving this place. Now.” Before you could protest, he grasped your elbow, leading you to the exit and directing you ahead by the small of your back.

Spilling out into the cool night, stumbling when your heels hit gravel, you spun on the angel, glowering, unable to mask your annoyance. “What the hell, Cas?”

“You mean nothing to him!” he spat, cadence grousing. His throat bobbed harshly as he struggled and failed to repress his brimming lust.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” you huffed, walking several steps to lean against the side of the building, removing the uncooperative footwear to massage your ankle. Too preoccupied to notice the unrestrained desire in the angel’s expression, you elucidated, “You know, no commitment. It’s not like this life lends itself to anything else. Sometimes a human needs companionship, even if it’s fleeting, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Bristling, he positioned himself squarely in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin to angle your face back to his. Pupils darkening, ire overflowing, he chided, “Do not presume to know what I do and do not understand. You forget I chose humanity over my own kin.”

You reflexively shoved at his hand, shrinking backward at his warning tone and intense regard, finding yourself inexorably pinned between the angel and the rough brick exterior of the bar.

He planted a palm firmly on the wall beside your head, regard dropping to contemplate his feet as he tempered his composure, vessel visibly straining with great effort.

You’d never known Cas to behave this way. You’d grown accustomed to his typically composed, unaffected, yet somehow melancholy demeanor prone only to occasional demonstrative outbursts of Winchester-related loyalty. His assertiveness now stunned you. “What’s gotten into you?”

Lifting lascivious blue eyes to bore into you, he inclined further forward, warm breath mingling with your own, so close you could feel the rush of heat radiating from his body. “You,” he gruffly stated.

Eyes widening, your body recognized his need milliseconds before your brain – heart skipping, breath quickening, your core pooled with arousal.

The angel sensed your heightened desire for him, a pleased smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. Bringing his lips to brush your ear, he growled low, “Y/N, I’m going to kiss you.” Dragging his nose across your cheek, he trembled with restraint, full lips hovering millimeters from yours, awaiting your consent.

“Oh Cas!” you exhaled softly, fingers finding and twisting his tie, tugging him crashing down to your lips. He pressed you to the wall, groaning hungrily into your mouth. Probing tongue frantic for your taste, you parted kiss swollen lips, permitting him access. Lost in the intoxicating exploration of teeth and tongues, your vision blurred, chest screaming for oxygen.

One hand moving to clutch at the crown of your hair, he yanked back, releasing your mouth, allowing you a desperate gasp for air. Shifting his attention, he kissed and sucked the column of your throat, marking you as his own for all the world to see.

Entwining your arms about his neck for leverage, you lifted a leg around his waist, inviting his heated body to melt into you.

He steadied you with his free hand, fingers impatiently kneading your thigh and slipping beneath the hem of your dress to cup your ass. He rested his forehead against yours, irises eclipsed by intense desire. Taking full advantage of your open hips, he bucked his clothed erection against your center, voice husky as he confessed, “I need you, Y/N. I’ve needed you for so long.”

Nails clawing at the sensitive nape of his neck, you moaned under the friction, wanting more, unwilling to wait, needing him to take you then and there. “Castiel,” exhaling a ragged whisper, you reached between your bodies, unzipping his pants, hand delving to free his throbbing cock. “I...”

Eyelids clamping shut, he groaned at the touch of your skin, the vibration rumbling through both of your bodies and causing your breath to hitch.

Stroking his shaft, you eased your soaked panties aside, sliding him through slick folds, settling his tip at your entrance.

His calloused hand fell from your hair to caress your neck, blackened eyes swirling with all-consuming lust as they searched yours, seeking a final permission to take you.

Lashes fluttering in anticipation, you granted his request, “I’m yours.”

He bottomed out with a single thrust, capturing your mouth with a passionate kiss as you screamed his name. Filling and stretching you with a sensuous burn, he set a desperate pace, fucking you so hard you could feel the brick of the building abrading the delicate flesh of your back through the thin fabric of your dress. A modicum of concern crossed your mind at being caught as the swelling volume of salacious moans and grunts spilling involuntarily from your throats rose into the night air. None of that mattered compared to the absolute ecstasy shattering your body with every powerful thrust, the coil of pleasure tightening in your abdomen each time he hit your sweet spot. Wriggling, whimpering, whining his name, you were close. The angel sensed this, and without an available hand, sent a tendril of exquisitely electric grace to engulf your clit, sending you careening to the edge.

“I want to see you come for me,” he growled, watching your blissful expression as you came apart beneath him. Hips shuddering, his own release drawn out as your walls pulsed around his twitching cock, he gave a final thrust, flooding you with spurting warmth. Groaning out your name amidst choked Enochian praise, his head dropped to your shoulder as the hurried relief of years of frustration placated his taut frame.

Scattered senses reorganizing, you held the angel tight, smoothing your hands lightly over his shoulders and back, processing the meaning of everything that had just happened. Panting, frame still quivering, legs jelly, you murmured in his ear those words he so often wished to hear, “Let’s get out of here. My room.”

He smiled, nuzzling and kissing the sweat sheened flesh of your shoulder, sighing contentment – with the levee breached, now he could show you precisely what you meant to him and love you as you deserved to be loved.

* * * * *

“Good morning.” Cas pulled out and sat in a chair at the restaurant table shared by Sam and Dean.

“Hey Cas.” Sam glanced up from his veggie egg white omelet, features drawn into a friendly smile.

“What’s up with you, you look different?” Dean questioned, pointing his fork accusatorily at the angel, mouth full of half-chewed waffle.

“What do you mean?” Cas tilted his sex tousled head askance.

“I don’t know,” Dean squinted, studying the angel’s face. “Well rested, maybe? Which is weird since you don’t sleep.”

Sam sipped his coffee, joining in the scrutiny, adding, “Yeah Cas, I haven’t seen you look this relaxed in, well, ever. It’s like you’ve had a weight lifted off your shoulders.”

Dean snorted and mused, “Or the stick pulled out of your...”

“What can I get you, sir?” the server interrupted, approaching Cas’ side, directing her undivided attention toward the new arrival and freeing the angel at least temporarily from the interrogation.

“Coffee, black,” Cas replied, meeting her eyes and nodding courteously.

“You bet,” she smiled warmly, “anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Cas’ attention returned to the brothers, continuing to gaze calmly between them.

Scratching at his temple, Dean propped an elbow on the table when the server departed earshot. “Did they switch angel radio up to smooth jazz or something?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at the elder Winchester, attempting to discern if Dean was making a joke or if he was being serious.

Sam knew his brother was dead serious. “Dean,” Sam muttered, wagging his chin, smirking in suppressed amusement, “I don’t think they actually play music on angel radio.”

“Right, yeah,” rolling vibrant green eyes, Dean deflected ignorance by pouring more syrup on his waffles, “obviously I knew that.” He stuffed another forkful of waffle into his cheek and looked abashedly at the far wall.

“Where’s Y/N anyway?” Sam scanned beyond the diner windows to the motel across the street where you were staying.

“Still asleep, recuperating,” Cas stated flatly, giving a small friendly smile to the server as she placed a steaming cup of coffee before him, “thank you.”

“I bet,” Dean took a swig from his own mug, washing down the gummy waffle, “from the sound of it she had a hell of a good time last night.”

“She did,” the angel offered, sliding the saucer of brown liquid closer, spinning the cup to rest his fingers on the handle. Staring at the cup, the muscles of his mouth convulsed into an irrepressible grin when he thought of your thoroughly ravished drowsing figure tangled in the sheets and the events of the night which led to your current condition.

Sam’s mouth curved into a half-smile, as usual catching on to the subtext of Cas’ statement well before his brother.

“What?” Dean ceased chewing, swallowing hard, expression deadpan, the feeling he’d missed something big niggling at him.

“She did have a good time last night,” Cas reiterated, continuing to contemplate the gleaming white porcelain of the cup as he lifted it from the saucer.

“Cas, what exactly are you trying to say?” Dean set his fork clanking on the plate, sucking an errant piece of waffle from his front teeth. He arched a skeptical brow and exchanged a disbelieving glance with his smiling brother.

“Well Dean,” Cas clarified, peering sidelong at Dean without actually looking at him, the grin of remembrance still dancing over his features, “I believe she’d actually be more inclined to characterize last night as heavenly.”

Dean’s jaw slackened as the angel nonchalantly sipped his coffee.


End file.
